Madly in Love
by xDarlingx
Summary: The thrilling story of how Dr. Harleen Quinzel looses herself in The Joker and becomes Harley Quinn. Nolan-verse.
1. Him

**I HAVE SWITCHED this story back to my other account, Jedi Healer. All new updates and progress and editing will be on that account, not this one. **

There were rumors.

They said that he was the sole inmate of Arkham Asylum.

She intended to find out.

She had always been fascinated by him, the one man who somehow had the power to turn this city up side down. She had pulled up everything in the public records she could find about him. But she found very little. No one knew his name or anything about his past except the stories he told about his scars but no one could tell if any of it was true. All they had was his present identity-a highly intelligent psychopathic terrorist bent on anarchy and chaos.

Locking him up in Arkham in isolation was a very ingenious punishment. He would have no one to "play with," no one else's mind to twist. It was like prison, but better.

At Blackgate, Harleen was considered a prodigy. She was admired for her high competence at such a young age. She when she caught tale of the Joker being held in Arkham.

Dr. Odin Markus, the doctor under whom she had majored at Gotham State University, wrote her an excellent reference letter to help her get into Arkham. She successfully landed an interview with Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, the current head of the Asylum.

Although Dr. Arkham admitted they were reluctant to have anyone interacting with the Joker, he recognized that the Joker was an invaluable base for Harleen's research. If the Joker's mind could be understood, perhaps they could find a way to treat him. He approved her full access to the Joker on the grounds of conducting research and building a psychiatric profile of him.

Today was her first day there. Harleen was almost giddy with excitement.

Her bright cerulean eyes flitted around, taking in her settings as Dr. Arkham showed her around, instructing her on everything she needed to know.

The fabric of her fitted black pencil skirt moved in rhythm to her pace and the click of her heels on the hard floor. The flickering lights overhead bounced off of her light blonde hair, which she kept pulled back in a neat bun resting on top of her head.

All the corridors above ground were a sort of beige color, the floors matching. They held an air of abandonment, and ghosts of insanity.

The atmosphere was a call to Harleen, rather than a warning. Among the criminals and madness was where her intelligence thrived.

She was shown the storage rooms, which still held the files of all the previous inmates of Arkham, bathroom facilities, the rooms where sessions were held, the security rooms, her new office, and finally, the basement.

They entered the elevator and he pressed the button for the bottom floor, and in seconds they arrived.

"And here we are, bottom level." He announced as they came to a stop and the doors opened, revealing a dimly lit hallway.

The walls here were painted a two-tone duo which consisted of a grungy pastel green top, and a dark sage bottom. Jeremiah lead her to the end and they rounded the corner into a significantly better illuminated corridor.

Her eyes roamed over the names of former inmates, whos's cells were now empty and devoid of life. They stopped in front of the only one that wasn't.

"There he is, your new friend." He said wryly.

The label on the door read "_Inmate #0801 The Joker._"

Her heartbeat quicked, a liquid thrill surging through her veins.

She walked up to the window, peering through.

He sat slouched on his bare bunk, which faced the right wall of the cell. He was humming to himself, his eyes floating around idly. His torso was wrapped in a straight jacket. His hair hung in greasy treads on either side of his now bare face. She could see the two jagged scars on either side of his mouth plainly now that they weren't covered in crimson paint.

The Joker became aware of their presence, looking out through the bars at them. His gaze flitted from her, to Dr. Arkham, then back to her.

They locked eyes for several long seconds. Harleen's breath became uneven, her heart pounding in her chest. She could not look away, though his eyes seemed to bore into her. She was mesmerized.

Suddenly, he scowled at her. She jumped a little, jolted out of her daze, her eyes widening with surprise.

He cackled at her.

Harleen took a deep breath in attempt to calm her now racing heart, her cheeks flushing.

All of it happening in a matter of moments.

"Come along." Dr. Arkham said, and she followed him back to the elevator.

His laughter followed them down the hallway, leaving her with an unsettling feeling.

Despite it, she smiled to herself, her spirits soaring. She couldn't wait to speak to him.


	2. Secrets

My name is Dr. Harleen Quinzel.

I have suffered from a rough past, full of unsparing mental, emotional and physical suffering and abuse. Yet, rather than breeding in me a mindset of self-pity and bitterness, the pain has birthed in me a desire to help those who have also suffered and are suffering, particularly, the mentally unfit. My heart goes out to the minds that too few have the knowledge, much less desire to help.

To my fortuity, I have always excelled in school. I have an inborn thirst for erudition. Complimentarily, my intelligence thrives in the environment of mental infirmity. I find my work captivating and I throw myself into it completely. It is my sense of purpose.

I have always had an attraction to extreme personalities. I find myself drawn to them. I connect to them because I myself have had the experience of being lost in my mind. There are times where I feel like I still am. I often ponder what it is like to be truly loved, as I know they do- whether they have been deprived of it in their lives like myself, or have forgotten, the memory lost in the depths of their damaged minds.

I do not have one particular set of rules of conduct I follow, or a specific view of how things should be. I see the world as far too complex and flexuous to try to rein it under one confined position of mind, especially being that my mind is flawed due to its human nature.

However, there are two things I am certain that I believe in, two things I am sure I stand for. One is compassion. Without that, my life's work would be pointless. The second is that no human being is beyond saving unless they truly, deeply have no wish to be saved.

Today is the day I have decided to take on the most daunting challenge I have encountered yet. A challenge which I am honored and thrilled to undertake. That challenge is gaining an understanding of the Joker.

It is daunting because I have already diagnosed through prior research that it is not that he has intentionally lost himself, but that he has willingly done so. That he is not insane, incurable, or unfit. Rather, that he is twisted, the wires in his mind so intricately entangled that I cannot know if I possess the ability to make sense of them.

Nevertheless I am determined to try, and I will give it my all, no matter how impossible this task may seem.

Also, I know there must be at least a shred of humanity in him, however small. I have hope that I can find it and maybe, just maybe somehow convince him to grasp onto it.

To not try would be to forsake my only beliefs, to turn away from my only purpose on this earth.


	3. Session One

_**Hello readers! I just wanted to let you know I have a poll up concerning this chapter. Your vote would mean the world to me! So do reviews ;)**_

Jeremiah only wanted her to meet with the Joker once a week. He explained that he wished to maintain a mostly solitary environment for the Joker, as that was the decided punishment for his crimes against humanity.

That was fine. As eager as she was, Harleen was just grateful to be granted this incredible opportunity. She held a fierce desire to grasp how the Joker's mind worked. She always had, and she never dreamed she'd get the opportunity.

Today was her first session with him.

Harleen approached the guards who stood outside the room. She breathed deeply in and out, to help calm her nerves as she had learned.

She felt electrified.

"If anything happens, you know what to do." One of them said. They were to remain close by outside in case something went wrong, in which case she would press the panic button and they would come running.

She nodded, with a smile. "Thank you, boys."

They opened the door for her, and she stepped into the room.

He sat slouched in the chair facing the door, relaxed, still restrained by a straitjacket. That was comforting.

His eyes locked with hers almost as soon as she walked in. Her heartbeat quickened, and she suddenly found it difficult to breathe evenly. The same reaction she had the very first time their eyes had met in his cell.

She sat down across from him. They were in a plain room-white walls, white floors. A plain, cool metal table separating them. It smelled like cleaning chemicals. She got a closer look at the brown curls that hung on either side of his face and the jagged scars framing his lips. Despite them he was still very handsome.

She blinked and gave him a chipper smile, forcing herself to focus.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Harleen Quinzel."

"Hmm..Harl_eee_n _Quinn_zell... " He continued to eye her. "That's an interesting name...if you rework it a bit...Harleen...Harl_ey.._.Harleey _Quinn._ Harlequin." He giggled.

She gave him a tight smile and nodded. "How clever of you."

He tilted his chin down and cocked his head to the side, a small but effective movement. A lock of his hair shifted and fell into his face.

"Are you uh-_flirting _with me..._Harleeey_?" He said teasingly, casting her a disarming look.

She almost stuttered, completely caught off guard by his question.

"No. That was sarcasm." She assured firmly. He didn't seem convinced.

_Get a grip Harleen. _Sh_e _knew he was just messing with her head, but somehow the knowledge didn't make remaining calm any easier

She took a deep breath, and started.

"I am here to conduct interviews for some research I'm doing. I would very much appreciate your cooperation."

He raised an eyebrow; his eyes looked accusing. "Is that what you're calling it?"

She met them steadily and it became hard to breathe again.

_Relax._

"So, why do you think you're here?"

"Why?" His lips spread horizontally like a crease, causing his scars to crumple together. "Because of the Batman. That's why." he answered, like it was obvious.

His lips deepen the crease. "He just had to go and spoil all my fun."

"So you think of...robbing a mob bank, terrorizing the citizens of Gotham, killing cops, blowing up a hospital...as fun?" Harleen asked.

"What else would I do it for?" He said, as if her question was silly.

"What else do you do for fun?"

He leaned his head back slightly. "Whatever I wanna do."

"What do you want to do?"

He just grinned and remained silent. A silence that said he felt no obligation to elaborate. She tried another question.

"How do you feel towards the Batman?"

She watched his eyes light up. "I think he's a hoot."

She wrote down _Batman-fun_. She knew why. He viewed the Batman as his only worthy opponent.

"So why did you become the Joker?" She asked him hopefully.

He cocked his head to the side again, a glint in his eye, and the corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly.

"It's a funny world we live in. Don't you think so, Harleey Quinnn?"

"I believe our senses of humor may differ." She said, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose.

She tried her next question. "What do you believe in?"

The Joker paused, then he sat forward in his chair.

"I believe..." He snickered a little. "I believe in Harvey Dent." He crowed loudly.

Harvey Dent, the DA of Gotham who cleaned up the streets without a mask and later become a psychotic murderer, dying at the hands of Batman. His sl"ogan had been "I believe in Harvey Dent."

His unfaltering stare was ever present. "What do you believe in,_ Harley_?" He used her name as if it was a weapon against her.

The question took her aback. "Why would that matter to you?" She asked, avoiding it.

"Why are you here, Harley? Hmm?" Before she could respond, he leaned forward further. "I know why." He said in a low voice.

His dry gaze burned through her. "Why?" She said, it taking effort to keep her voice steady.

He didn't answer. Instead, he said,

"You know, Harley Quinn suits you well."

"What do you mean?" But he didn't reply still. He just smirked at her. She waited for several long seconds, then decided against pressing the question. He didn't need to think she cared about his opinion.

"You look so..._tense_." He said, with a tone of mock concern. "What is it, sweets?"

_Come on Harleen._"I'm not tense." She denied. She still sounded calm, but he didn't look convinced. He went silent again, his eyes boring into hers steadily. She felt like she was in a stand off.

Suddenly, he lunged across the table, his straitjacket flinging open and his hands wrapping around her slender neck, his fingers curling around the back and his thumbs resting on her chin, pulling her across too with brute strength.

She gasped loudly, her eyes widening, but she made no attempt to struggle against his grip. She didn't reach for the panic button. Instead a strange sensation darted through her insides.

How had he escaped the jacket?

"Sh-sh-sh" He said, touching a finger to her lips briefly. The small, fleeting contact sent another surge through her. As quick as he put it there he moved it away and breathed menacingly, "How bout now, hm?"

She held his icy stare silently, ignoring the pain of the table digging into her stomach. His hands were warm against her skin. He smelled faintly of bar soap and the dankness of the basement. Her breaths became uneven. But she did not look away.

She was sure she could hear her heart hammering in her chest- could he?

"Are you afraid, _Harleey_?" he asked her slowly, the relish audible in his voice.

"No." It didn't come out as certain as she had intended.

He cocked his head to the side, and leaned closer while simultaneously yanking her towards him, the result placing her less than an inch away from him. She felt his hot breath fall on her face. A chill ran down her spine.

After a few seconds he smirked at her, chuckling delightedly. He whispered into her ear. "You should be."

Harleen suddenly found herself breathless. How did he do that?

He tightened his grip on her throat, eyes flitting back to hers, holding her for a few long moments. Then as soon as he had seized her he let her go.

Something inside her ached, and in turn she felt unsettled. It was a familiar ache but she could not put a finger on it.

He sat back and smirked at her, beating her down with this intense eyes.

"I think that's enough for today." She said, diligently keeping any of her distress from leaking into her face. She couldn't look vulnerable to him.

She rose, scooting her chair back under the table, her clipboard and pen in her arms. She had not taken many notes at all. But she didn't need to. This conversation was unforgettable.

She walked towards the door to leave.

"See ya, tootes."

She bit her lip and shut the door behind her.


	4. Chemicals

"His jacket is loose." She told the guards. Her composure came a bit easier now that she had exited his presence.

She watched a look of shock come over their faces.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" Their eyes surveyed her quickly, searching for injuries.

"No, he didn't. I'm fine." She answered calmly. Technically, scare tactics did differ from intent to harm.

The guard on her left, a broad shouldered man with stern features turned to his more slender consort. "You keep your gun on him and I'll fix his straps extra tight."

"Got it."

Harleen tensely watched them reenter the room.

"Hands up!" The one with the gun yelled. The Joker complied without struggle, allowing the guard to refasten his jacket.

His eyes were not on either of the guards though. Rather, they had found hers once again.

He smirked at her, then winked.

Her heart dropped, and she turned and walked briskly away.

* * *

"Hello Dr. Quinzel, how did it go?"

"He was rather…unresponsive." She handed him a copy of what she had gathered about him so far. "However, I believe he will warm up with time. I'll just have to develop a better approach."

"I hope that is the case" Jeremiah said, his eyes skimming the document.

"As do I." Harleen replied with a nod.

He looked up at her, looking pleased. "Regardless of your difficulty, what you have gathered so far is impressive, Ms. Quinzel. Thank you again for offering your expertise. You are a brave woman."

She smiled. "Thank you sir. It is my pleasure."

"Same time next week." He said, returning her smile briefly.

"Yes sir. See you then."

* * *

Harleen opened the door to her apartment.

As soon as it closed behind her, she sighed deeply. She pulled down her hair, raking her fingers through it.

_He could've killed me. _

_Why didn't he?_

She made her way to the bedroom, the question tumbling around in her brain. She stripped off her clothes and unhooked her bra, slipping on a loose, comfy sweater in their place.

She went into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of merlot and poured herself a generous glass, as was custom after a stressful day.

_He could've killed me. _

_He could've killed the guards._

_He probably could've escaped. _

What was stopping him?

She sunk down on the couch and took a long sip, her eyes drifting shut as the soothing liquid slid down her throat. She clutched the glass close to her.

She could still feel his warm hands wrapped around her neck. His hot breath on her face. His handsome features, his deep brown eyes.

That feeling, that ache, spread through her again. It was like a warmth that hurt.

_Oh. _

She sighed.

_God, Harleen. _

It felt completely senseless to be attracted to such a monstrous psychopath as the Joker.

However, physical and mental and or emotional attraction were entirely different matters. His psychopathy was severe and deeply ingrained, thus the latter two were totally out of question.

She merely found him aesthetically pleasing. That's all it was. It was nothing to worry about. It wouldn't get in the way of her work. It was simply a matter of chemicals.

She poured herself another glass, feeling everything melt away as she slowly drained it, being replaced by a sweet sleepiness.


	5. Back to Jedi Healer!

I am switching this story back to my other account, Jedi Healer. Sorry for the inconvenience guys!


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